2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 26

Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day!

For today’s prompt, write a relationship poem. Of course, there are human relationships, but there are also plant-animal relationships, animal-animal relationships, and even mathematical relationships. Good, bad, healthy, and not-so-much. Dive deep today.

*****

Re-create Your Poetry!

Revision doesn’t have to be a chore–something that should be done after the excitement of composing the first draft. Rather, it’s an extension of the creation process!

In the 48-minute tutorial video Re-creating Poetry: How to Revise Poems, poets will be inspired with several ways to re-create their poems with the help of seven revision filters that they can turn to again and again.

Click to continue.

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Here’s my attempt at a Relationship Poem:

“gifting”

the husband bought flowers
but they were the wrong kind
still the wife was not sour
nor delivered her mind

to the inept husband
who at least showed some thought
until he became mad
over what the wife got

*****

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He has a poem in his pocket most days.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

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254 thoughts on “2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 26

  1. Nancy Posey

    I’m a few days behind posting, having spent a few days with my sister and a few thousand of my favorite music lovers. A relationship poem is easy after a first-ever road trip with sister #3.

    Sisters

    For a few days, we remove ourselves
    from the usual dynamics of birth order
    and family expectations

    We each see the other as a mirror,
    recognizing gestures, turns of phrase
    we all share.

    Alabama takes residence in my accent,
    never having left for good. Vowels flatten.
    My laugh lifts in pitch to match yours.

    For fourteen hours of windshield time,
    four days of music and festival food,
    we discover what we already suspected:

    A cliché worthy of a Hallmark card–
    Sisters make great friends.

  2. trishwrites

    Our House

    Two became
    Three
    Became four
    And then five

    Odd numbers
    Fit us just
    Right

    If only moments
    Could be captured
    In a snow globe
    Give it a shake
    Watch
    Years flash by
    Summer cottages
    Countless car pools
    Miles logged in travel meets
    And family get aways
    Friends laughter
    Coming from their
    Rooms
    Five became four
    Became three
    Became two
    Friday nights
    Are different

  3. madeline40

    Dinner

    She cooks his meals
    while he sits in his chair
    wrapped in a blanket
    watching the news
    and dozing until,
    stroking his hair, she tells him
    dinner is ready.
    They begin the meal with a toast
    and click wine glasses, but then,
    almost through eating,
    he pushes his plate away
    and says, bottom line:
    the fish is very dry. She says,
    you need another cook
    or better yet,
    cook a meal once in a while yourself.
    Maybe you could even
    go to the grocery store for a change.

  4. JoMae

    My Stuff

    I have a fond relationship with stuff
    every picture on the wall, each
    piece of furniture, a story

    Any earring, gift or not, is more than just an
    earring, it’s a hug, a memory, a tale to tell
    my dear stuff is an element of who I am

    One day I will have to downsize, part with much
    and figure out a way to carry things by heart
    or be torn up again with loss. It’s only stuff?

    Each choice, each gift has formed me. The whole
    embracing with an almost unnoticed hug.
    Stuff, the warm familiar sea I swim in

    JoMae
    4/26/18
    #aprpad

  5. Gigglette

    Lioness
    His bombastic assault of words booms in my ears
    Harming my psyche with meaningful sharp arrows
    Aimed perfectly towards my lioness heart
    I allow them to bounce off but occasionally the bombardment penetrates
    I have armored my heart over time building resistance and a barrier to sound
    Still leaving the gates to love wide-open enabling Funnel Vision
    For Sight and Sound of his reclaimers
    ” Mom I’m sorry , I didn’t mean what I said”.
    ” I love you Mom”,” are you okay? I’m sorry I get so mad and don’t know everything I say”.
    I can enfold him in a generous hug
    The Lioness protecting her cub
    Knowing how very difficult it is for him to break past the barriers
    Of his own walls of Autism

  6. Janet Rice Carnahan

    SHIP OF RELATIONS

    it was going to be a grand journey
    Once in a lifetime adventure
    A yacht for the family
    A trek on water
    No children, just spouses
    Our mother, our stepfather and us
    Joyful idea
    Excellent plans
    A thrill to be included

    First night
    Alcohol took the good sense
    Of two on board
    Bored and a bit too festive
    While the boat came unhooked
    In the night
    A small fright
    For all but the two
    Who never heard a thing
    One sibling did everything
    Avoiding his wife
    And it wasn’t that big of a boat
    While most of us chose
    To laugh at life
    I caught flak for too many clothes
    While others chose denial
    That anything was wrong
    With anything
    By day, we searched crab pots
    Fished after dark
    Did the can-can on deck
    Sister giggles
    What the heck

    All that remains
    Photographs, memories
    The forever picture in my mind
    A bald eagle, flying by
    My first sighting, ever

    Our mother is now gone
    Three of us, divorced
    Stepfather is on his third lady
    Just a friend now
    Yet I can still see the boat
    Full of our relations
    Heading off into open water
    Hearts full of expectations
    Assuming all relationships
    Would stay afloat
    Never realizing
    They we’re already
    Coming apart
    Even before
    We set sail!

  7. Matt

    My views on the out
    side world haven’t changed
    much since I was a child. In that,
    I would rather be inside, than out.

    Inside, if I choose,
    I can walk around naked
    and sit where I damn well please.
    Outside, nakedness could be
    achieved-I would only
    tempt imprisonment or an inexplicable rash.
    Inside, my cares
    are manageable because
    my domain is my kingdom, therefore
    my word is law.
    Outside, if you wanted
    to quantify my social relevance,
    I would be the impact made by throwing a grape at Goliath’s head.
    Inside, I can sit in comfort,
    while I watch you
    funny little ants,
    living your routines and your lives.
    Outside, you see me on occasion
    as I pass by a window.

    You’ve always been dimly aware of my existence.
    But now,
    you wonder what’s wrong with me.
    You wonder why I
    don’t join the chorus.

    If I were to tell you that
    once upon a time, I used to be just like you,
    your eyebrows would jump in surprise and
    your brain would force your mouth
    to question my choice, question my absence from your hymns.

    I could tell you the truth,
    I could tell you that I sang tenor for years
    and then one day
    I was told that I was flat and off-key,
    when the truth is that
    I was singing a different song all together.
    I could tell you a little lie about
    How I am more of a solo act, and that I should be
    front and center. But,
    instead, I do neither.

    I do the thing that ends the conversation with alacrity.
    I ignore you so that we can go back
    to living our lives.

    You, on the outside,
    with your routines and your
    lives, and the rest of your days
    in sheeplike bliss. And

    me, on the inside,
    watching, listening, and quietly dozing
    to the rhythmic sounds of your routines
    as they usher in one day, and out the other.

  8. Carla Cherry

    New York Dilemma

    Sure is hard counting on people,
    on things that are unreliable.
    It gets me where I need to go.

    I got on the 6 train at 110th Street
    stepped on something unidentifiable and sticky that had dried up.
    At least I got a seat.

    It gets me where I need to go.
    It was going express and I was 25 minutes from home
    but an unauthorized person was on the tracks
    and at Hunts Point they shut the 6 down–both directions–while police investigated.

    No livery cabs in sight.
    I got on the Bx5 bus. It was crowded. I had to sit in the rear.
    Why did we think sitting in the back was ever cool?
    There was an empty Happy Meal box and chicken nuggets on the floor
    I endured the smell of cooking grease for half an hour.

    At the last stop, the Bx29 was waiting.
    Ten minutes later I was among my beloved
    breeze off the Long Island Sound.
    Plump blades of grass. Trimmed hedges.
    Pink flowering dogwood trees.

    Sometimes I think we should break up for good.
    But it gets me where I need to go,
    love to be.

  9. P.A. Beyer

    The Binder

    The nurse picks up the crinkled notes
    from your three hole punched life
    You stab at each letter, like a touch screen
    and sweep aside any nuance of love

    What language shall I speak,
    if not love?

  10. Nick

    Me and Gravity

    A 15.1 mph fastball at warp speed;
    the speed it
    takes to leave orbit. Your
    glance when a meteorite
    fell to earth, when
    a proton escaped the nucleus,
    when remodeled clay cracked-
    the core revealed. It is then
    I understand how weak gravity is-
    even a curve ball.

  11. MET

    I like slow lunches
    With good conversations
    Shared with a friend
    On a day when the sky is grey;
    But it does not matter
    With conversations
    Light with wit,
    Shining with memories,
    And clear with promises
    Of lunches in the future.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 26, 2018

  12. Walter J Wojtanik

    A RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM

    Pray thee, that I find within me
    His gentility or some other saintly wile.
    A comforting smile devoid of style
    yet full of passion and compassion.
    I have been de-frocked, mocked
    and ridiculed –
    yet I’m fueled by this fire;
    a desire to serve as an example,
    a sample of how-to,
    to view the magnificence
    in others; my sisters and brothers
    in this life as it was given.
    Living each day in a way
    that honors Him, my Maker/Taker,
    THE real deal breaker.
    Pray thee that I find Him within me
    or in failing there, find Him elsewhere near.

  13. Walter J Wojtanik

    SIBLING REVELRY

    More than five times have I been blessed,
    from my vantage point, the middle man.

    Two sisters and four brothers
    all offspring of the same mother,

    all with their quirks and styles,
    (everyone with Dad’s smile) and

    a completely separate branch on the family tree,
    foliage gone, but the rings around the trunk

    assure a longevity; a brevity in the span
    of this vast universe so created, and elated

    that we have come to reconnect at a time
    where the incredible shrinking surname

    wanes towards obscurity. A factual surety
    that frames this portrait with love and understanding

    no longer demanding and pompous, an enormous relief
    in the belief that in assuming the mantle left behind

    we will find our footing and map out new ground,
    profound in the knowledge of our origin and happy

    we were afforded the opportunity to flex our wile,
    while never straying far from our connection.

    Joseph, your history is our mystery. Not around long enough
    to make a blemish, although leaving your mark on our fabric.

    Cynthia, queen mother so assumed, groomed for the position
    of matriarch with enough of a spark to be yourself.

    Paul, sure and independent, most reticent to belong,’
    too strong for your own damn good, a marvel with wood.

    Tim, wild and free, determined to take life by the throat
    and squeeze every ounce out of its living.

    Ken, “Squidly the Sailor”, his heart always in place,
    a face only a mother could love, (and she could have been jiving!)

    Laurie, a singular soul, her only attachments are her siblings
    and her felines, striding the fine line of “Crazy Cat Lady”.

    Where does that leave me? Walt the word guy, know-it-all,
    writing the script that skirts dysfunction for the joy our relationship provides.

  14. goldmiel

    WHAT ARE THEY SAYING

    When I hear my dogs bark
    I wonder what they are saying.
    Are they sending messages
    to other dogs in the neighborhood?
    When a big black lab
    entered the front yard
    through the open gate
    my little maltese barked
    and ran at the intruder
    who tucked his tail and ran away.
    Perhaps it was a dog apology,
    a way of saying, “I’m sorry,
    I did not know this was your territory.”
    Like the woman in the supermarket
    who bumped me with her cart
    and said, “Please excuse me.”
    Maybe I need a doggie translator
    to tell them I do not like
    being watched when I am in the shower
    or on the toilet.

  15. Linda Voit

    Friends

    I love how miles and years
    have never stood a chance
    of disrupting
    the conversation we weave
    through our lives, the thread always
    at the ready no matter how far
    away, no matter how long
    it has been.

    Linda Voit

  16. MET

    Loss

    You were our iconic father…
    The one with the wise answers…
    The one who told jokes…
    The one who could be serious….
    Then
    It was all seriousness.
    The women who came forward…
    Each one leaving me numb
    Somewhere in a corner
    I was a child sucking my thumb
    Clinging to a ragged blanket
    Wanting to cling to the belief
    You were who
    You portrayed yourself to be.
    In the end you were a good actor, and
    You were a farce….
    Still,
    That child in me…
    Wanted to believe…
    You were that iconic father
    Instead of the one who assailed us,
    Leaving us marred by your image.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 26, 2018

    1. MET

      Bill Cosby’s conviction has assailed me with a sorrow of the loss of who I thought he was instead of the man he is. For those he harmed it is a victory… but for all of us who trusted and loved him as we do any icon… not a true relationship…this still hurt a lot… and his conviction… saddens me.

      1. k weber

        i appreciate your honest words and how you synthesized your thoughts into a poem to share with us. the list of celebrities doing awful things has gotten so lengthy i am not sure if i am still allowed to enjoy their past work or if i am supposed to reject it entirely. definitely jarring when these icons and legends we held in high regard are getting into some very deep trouble.

        1. MET

          I know exactly what you are talking about, but what he did as a predator… is worst than most while he appeared to be very wholesome…. but then having worked in child abuse… some of the most incorruptible were actually corrupted… but lately it seems to be more who is not doing such than who is…but still and this was my chief reason for debating this…for the African American community… he represented some one made it and he had…but at the same time he thumbed his nose at all those who respected him by doing what he did….as a friend told me he could have had many women without ever having to force himself on any woman….sadly he was more into power than into lust.

  17. lsteadly

    Never Gone

    I feel you here though you are not
    in front of me or even beside or under
    the same roof but your shirts are
    hanging in the closet next to mine
    and you left the book you were reading
    on the table and of course the mattress
    dips just the slightest bit under the quilt
    as if your body was there waiting for me
    when I come to bed but I know
    it is just the depression your soul left
    knowing that I need you
    that makes me realize you will
    always be present no matter how
    much the miles between us say you aren’t

  18. SymannthaRenn

    The Drugs Don’t Work

    I took the pills
    but it didn’t cure my ills
    life gave me chills
    one too many thrills
    your love for me spills
    over and I can climb the hills
    it may not pay the bills
    but your love cured my ills

    April 26, 2018

  19. MargoL

    Connecting with people

    Connecting with people
    is not always an easy thing to do,
    as you reach my age too.

    Sometimes it can get complicated.
    I think as I become
    too educated

    I can no longer relate
    to the simple soul
    no matter how old.

    Because at the end of the day,
    I’ve run out of things
    to say.

    1. Cam Yee

      This one spoke to me – I often find myself desperately casting about in my mind for subjects of conversation, even with those I know well. I think sometimes that while life broadens our horizons, it narrows our connections as we can become overwhelmed looking for the right commonality among all our mutual experiences.

  20. tunesmiff

    MACUSHLA (MY PULSE)
    G. Smith (BMI)
    ==·€·==
    My grandmother’s grandfather came from Ireland,
    A hundred plus years ago;
    Along with his wife, the love of his life,
    And a half-dozen kids or so.

    He was a constable in Philadelphia,
    He proudly wore his star,
    Walking a beat along Mulberry Street,
    And they lived over a bar.

    He came home from working long hours,
    Glad his day was done,
    Climbed the stairs, hung up his cares,
    Along with his hat and his gun.

    He smiled whenever he saw her,
    And there was one thing that he always said,
    On his way out the door, back in, or before,
    Each night heading to bed:

    “Macushla, you’re the blood in my veins,
    “Macushla, as long as breath remains,
    “Macushla, you’re the love of my life,
    “Macushla, my pulse, my wife.”

    Good Catholics, they had three more children;
    The last one took all she was worth.
    When this last one was born, he had no time to mourn,
    Her dying with her son’s birth.

    Still he’d whispered,
    “Macushla, you’re the blood in my veins,
    “Macushla, as long as breath remains,
    “Macushla, you’re the love of my life,
    “Macushla, my pulse, my wife.”

    He lived on into his eighties,
    Great-grand-kids numbered a score,
    And before he passed, those words were his last,
    He whispered them all one time more;

    “Macushla, you’re the blood in my veins,
    “Macushla, as long as breath remains,
    “Macushla, you’re the love of my life,
    “Macushla, my pulse…”
    =–··–=
    (Using a word found for yesterday’s prompt – macushla – meaning “my pulse” in Irish used as an affectionate form of address – combined with today’s prompt, RELATIONSHIP)

  21. Cam Yee

    How I Found You When I Lost You

    I’ve never been so scared
    by you
    before
    I’ve never before
    been
    so sad

    until I found you
    alone
    on a chair
    in a square
    room staring.

  22. Tom Hayes

    Only Human

    Because we are human,
    relations are complex.

    They often misbehave,
    or are simply misplayed.

    Because we are human,
    sometimes we misfire.

    Our best efforts ending up
    as mishaps and mistakes

    Our intentions are misread,
    and our interests misaligned.

    Our bonds may be misbegotten,
    but because we are human.

    We will work it out,
    Human to human.

  23. Bruce Niedt

    Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is a familiar one: Write a poem that employs all five senses. Today I wrote a “haiku sonnet”. As far as a “relationship” goes, well, it’s a stretch, but it’s there.

    Nectar

    stars are fading in
    with dusk, pink light in the west
    birds in evensong

    you’ve returned again –
    your scent sweetens the darkness
    I follow my nose

    you have dressed for spring –
    a silky, petaled gown that
    I stroke with my thumb

    plucking a blossom
    from your stem, I bite the tip
    suck out the nectar

    honeysuckle, you’re my love
    and I am your butterfly

  24. MichelleMcEwen

    What I Miss/Don’t Miss about Being in a Relationship

    having hearts for eyes
    hanging on to him outside
    like he some prize
    like he sunrise
    like he blue sky
    happiness it goes straight
    to my behind
    & thighs
    i might go up a size
    & he don’t mind like he don’t mind
    these hearts in my eyes
    & me holding on to him outside
    like he some prize
    like he sunrise
    like he blue sky
    like he mine

  25. pcm

    Relationship Jumpstart after Neurological Breakdown

    It was a sunny day, we were okay
    I walked into traffic on Franklin street
    Kids at school, me at work
    It was time for me to go
    We manage, takes more time
    I couldn’t take it anymore
    Why didn’t you tell me?
    I tried twice, both times traffic swerved.
    The drivers and you could have died!
    I stopped trying, lost my nerve.
    Please tell me, why?

    ~ pcm
    @pcmoffatt

    My attempt at a contrapuntal poem.

  26. CMcGowan

    There’s a connectedness

    that exits – despite the

    continual challenges of life,

    my mistakes and my strife –

    between my maker and me

    that gives me hope in the

    darkness, cracks me wide

    so the light always gets in.

  27. Smruti

    Someone interesting

    I met someone
    interesting
    one day.
    In a quite
    serene
    deep
    moment.
    Closing
    my eyes
    I felt a
    voice
    like mine.
    I decided to be
    in touch
    with it
    everyday.
    I knew it was
    my true friend.
    Sorting my anxieties
    and stress.
    It was always a
    refreshing moment
    after me met.
    Never did
    I feel alone
    after I discovered
    the true inner self –
    Me

  28. Poetjo

    Dead Poets

    I wish I
    had known
    Charles
    Bukowski,
    Sylvia Plath,
    &/or
    Anne Sexton.

    I would have
    a drink
    with them,
    & sit
    & chat
    about
    how to
    write true
    about grief,
    joy, our
    broken
    hearts &
    everything
    in between.

    Bukowski
    would swear
    a blue streak,
    Plath would
    be ethereal
    & blonde
    & Sexton
    would be
    elegantly
    sarcastic,
    talking of
    stone boats &
    watercolours
    that can be
    washed
    off.

    I sigh
    with regret,
    knowing
    I’ll never
    meet any
    of them &
    set about
    writing
    odes
    to all of
    them
    which is a
    relationship
    of
    sorts.

  29. thunk2much

    It’s complicated

    I look at her face,
    defiant in the mirror,
    and I wonder when
    she let herself go,
    how she lost her joy,
    and whether to bother
    trying one more time
    to rekindle the love
    we used to share.

  30. PSC in CT

    -Shipping & Handling

    Relationships are complicated.
    (It’s true. Ask anyone – even facebook.)

    Sometimes in order to
    maintain a good relation-
    ship, save a flagging friend-
    ship, or rekindle a dwindling kin-
    ship, you’ll find you need
    to plead the 5th.

    (However,
    if you ever
    feel the urge
    to quaff an entire 5th,
    rest assured: that
    –ship has sailed.)

    Unsolicited advice
    is cheap.
    (But excellent advice is
    next to impossible.)
    Below is some
    (of the former):

    What’s good for the goose
    isn’t always good-
    hearted candor.

    Despite what they say,
    it’s never a good idea
    to meet in the meddle;
    rather,
    it’s always better
    to divide and concur.

    And, most importantly,
    you should never forget:
    Absence makes the heart
    look yonder.

  31. LeeAnne Ellyett

    Relationship, I thought was done

    Beginning like all others, newlyweds
    dancing and singing, couldn’t wait for bed,
    like minds and passions, mixed with
    mutual respect and admiration.

    We traveled on a journey,
    with, then without kids and exes,
    enjoying many memorable vacations
    sun, sand and s**,

    Then the tide turned on us
    throwing us into the bluff,
    no longer on the same page,
    each of us full of rage,

    After twelve years, both good and bad,
    I was crumbling, stubbing, so sad,
    everything in our world, wrong
    neither one of us standing strong.

    Now, four years later, I’m by your side
    and ask myself how, why…
    our minds have changed, passion waned,
    Yet, there is more respect and admiration,

    A unique cycle, that has shaped us,
    altered our self being, into seeing
    who and where we are and together
    we are each other’s best friend,
    holding Trust and Love in our hands.

  32. Austin Hill

    Then.

    Me, myself and I,
    always a battle,
    never allies.

    Me has had some issues,
    I thought of herself.
    Myself always stayed home,
    cleaning off a shelf.

    Now.

    I knows me much better,
    strangers nevermore,
    Myself goes more often,
    sure we’re not a bore.

    Me, myself and I,
    never a battle,
    always allies.

    © April 2018 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

  33. Eileen S

    Peasant to Saint

    My country, France was being taken
    over by the English army.
    The British made our lives horrible.
    I was just a poor peasant girl who
    convinced the King of France to go to battle.
    I lead my country to victory.
    I was the Maid of Orleans; brave and fearless.
    Even though I saved my country,
    I was captured and imprisoned.
    I went on trial for heresy and cross dressing.
    (Remember, I came from a different time.)
    I was sentenced to die and burned at the stake.
    The Catholic Church admired my actions and
    canonized me. I became a heroine, Saint Joan.
    Pretty good for peasant girl from Orleans!

  34. MET

    Ruby
    My possessed cat…
    I never wrote an ode
    Elegy or even a sonnet…
    To the life we shared.

    You were an unwanted gift.
    I grieved for my Dezia…
    Twenty-one years is
    A long time to be owned
    By one cat, and I did not want
    To be disowned.
    But a gift you were…

    You attacked me while I slept, and
    Then ran to Ma…
    She was who you really loved.
    Your ownership of me
    Would be more
    I would obey…
    Or live to regret it…
    You wanted my chair…
    You got my chair…
    My laptop was yours, and
    Knew better than intrude
    When you chose to nap there…

    Then Dexter Wayne
    The white fluff dog
    Who showed up one day
    (And was too dam(n) smart)
    Was who you really loved.
    When he died, you refused
    To leave the room where
    You and I found him that morning.

    Too late I realized
    What pain you were in…
    Cancer took you down….
    And though I never
    Said I loved you
    In your life…
    I cried as I dug
    Your grave
    Knowing no one
    Would understand
    I did love you
    In my own way.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 26, 2018

    Ruby (September 2001- July 2007)

  35. Pat Walsh

    orbits
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    there is a spot
    where the breeze lingers
    in the warmth of the sunlight
    in the lateness of the afternoon

    where their orbits
    once crossed arcs in an attitude
    of persistent quiet reverence
    for the newness of knowing

    a debris of stones
    litters a landscape shifting in
    constant thoughtless movement
    like tiny markers of chances lost

    in the evening
    when hours trail into the dark sky
    like tears vented from dreams
    that are no longer linked together

  36. bethwk

    Even the stinkbug
    that you lift so gingerly
    from the wall
    and scoop out the window
    into the night breeze

    Even the small mouse
    skittering over the counter

    Even the forsythia
    flashing golden
    in the afternoon sun

    Even the curve
    of the cobalt bowl
    which nestles
    into your palms

    Even the Mayapples
    in the wiidsedge

    Even the geese on the pond
    Even the fish
    Even the spider
    whose art is everywhere

    Even the mantis
    who looks you in the eye,
    who are so much larger
    but so much less fierce

    Even the hawk
    circling over the field
    Even the wind in the branches
    Even the groundhog
    eating your spinach

    All is at one with you
    All is family
    If you cannot say to the rabbit,
    I am your sister. I am your brother.
    If you cannot say to the sun,
    I recognize you as one of my family,

    If you cannot say to the oxygen
    as it races into your lungs,
    We are children together
    in this great race of living,

    Then you will always be
    separate, isolated, alone.

    (www.farmpoem.wordpress.com)

  37. Asha1000

    Chaos Theory of Why We Choose Difficult Partners

    There is a storm coming,
    a magnetic-sort-of attraction,
    thermo-dynamically charged ions
    sensitive to rounding errors
    from entropic childhood days.

    An engineered template
    that looks like a familiar butterfly –
    effects on the grooves of our biology
    and philosophy of why
    we need to suffer
    to feel
    that love is real.

    But if we study mathematics,
    instead of re-engineering instincts
    that render long+term relationships impossible,
    we can react, sugary, like mature fruit,
    with deterministic chaos
    and ask,
    “Glass of wine?”

    – Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

    1. k weber

      One of your absolute best poems I have read this month. Strong and so many allusions from science, math, and engineering to craft this work of art. Enjoyed the “butterfly effect” wordplay at the line break. My favorite line is “we can react, sugary, like mature fruit…” but there are so many more excellent and skilled moments.

  38. MET

    To my best friend on losing her brother….

    I knew it was coming
    When you told me the news…
    I felt so much sorrow for you…
    Losing older brothers
    Is hard for little sisters.
    They tease and taunt us
    But protect us…

    I remember your brother
    A skinny fellow,
    Who teased me
    In his quiet ways…
    I liked his big smile, and
    How his eyes brighten
    When he was around
    His family.

    I am sorry
    I was not there
    For his funeral,
    But
    I will always
    Be here
    For you my dear friend.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 26, 2018

      1. MET

        Thank you… she is one of the gifts to my life….. we went to college together… but were not that close until the summer after we graduated… then we spent the summer looking for this friend of ours that we both liked… I had the car and she had the directions… except they were bad… and we never saw our friend all summer but we had so much fun in our search that … we became the best of friends… I even wrote a poem about that summer called “looking for David Danehower” he was fine with it… as was she…

  39. Joseph Hesch

    Grateful For Our Never-Could-Be

    There always was a you and me,
    though there never could be an us.
    That’s just how things shook out, you see,
    and how I never was one to raise a fuss.

    But it would never have worked out,
    two loners changing but one letter to lovers.
    Not that the fantasy never came about,
    and still does, as over my bed it hovers.

    Such couplings would require more than dreams,
    more than hopes and baseless obsessions.
    They need two-way connection between their two extremes,
    not vague one-way mumbled confessions.

    So I gave up that ridiculous desire,
    longer ago than you’d imagine.
    Yet I’m thankful for each time they still transpire,
    fueling what passes for a feckless dreamer’s passion.

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